Red Skies at Night
After dinner Aunt June and I went out for a walk. It was strange for just the two of us to go for a walk. Usually everyone goes. Everyone likes to go because Uncle Mark lives on the beach. I hadn't seen her in about a year since she moved to Arizona, but she flew out here for our annual family reunion. So, it was weird to be out for a walk with just my aunt.
At first we did the usual going-for-a-walk-on-a-beach things. Touch our toes in the water and scream at how cold it is, pick up a few shells, and look for sea glass. Then she started talking about when she and my mom and Uncle Mark were kids. I already knew they grew up in Portland and that Grammy and Grampy owned an ice cream shop near this beach.
I started to lose interest. Why do grown-ups always talk about the happy times when they were kids? I was distracted by the most amazing red skies sunset. 'Red skies at night, sailor's delight.'
I couldn't believe there can be so many colors in the same sky. The sun was a blood red dome on the water. Pinks, purples, peaches and reds splotched across the horizon and deep blues washed into the lightest baby blues the higher you looked. I was about to tell Aunt June about my art teacher and how the blue looked like watercolors but the reds looked like spilled tempera paints.
She was saying something about Uncle Mark wanting to be a dentist when he was a teenager. That was news to me. My family doesn't really talk about their teen years. I was wondering on that when I was about to say I want to be an artist (of course she already knew that) exactly when she said 'artist.'
"Jinx!" I thought but didn't say because I hadn't actually said anything out loud. Aunt June continued talking as if I wasn't even there and she was talking to herself. Which, to be fair was true, since I wasn't really listening. But I was now.
At first I assumed she was talking about me, but she wasn't. It took me a few minutes to realize she was talking about my mother. I was absolutely speechless. My mother never showed any interest in art, and barely any in my art. Questions stormed around in my head. I just let Aunt June continue her remembering. Uncle Mark never became a dentist, mom never became an artist, and Aunt June never traveled across the country (except for moving to Arizona, I thought). She sounded so regretful that it made me sad.
Suddenly she stopped and grabbed my hand and smiled. She said something my family was very good at was letting things go. That was true, I supposed. She never would have been saying these things if the others had come for the walk with us. Something about the way she said it, though, made me feel like it was a warning. I had no idea what to say to that.
We turned for the walk back up the beach. The sky had turned darker. Red skies at night is supposed to mean a lovely day ahead. Instead I felt like changes were coming. And for some reason I felt older. Neither of us said anything on the way back. But I made some decisions. I was going to paint my mother the red skies at night. And I was going to ask her why she never mentioned wanting to be an artist.
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